


Nirak

by celticmuse



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:01:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24793543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celticmuse/pseuds/celticmuse
Summary: Nirak-the Vulcan word for fool. Set post Undiscovered Country. Expanded from a song meme inspired by Mary Chapin Carpenter's version of "I'll Never Fall in Love Again".
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

“What the hell?" Christine Chapel set the small bouquet of roses on the table next to the door. "How did you get in here?"

"We must talk, Christine." Spock stalked toward her, his dark robe billowing softly in the warm afternoon breeze from the lanai. 

"I'm sorry, Chris," Uhura said , her claret colored gown making a swishing sound on the polish marble floor as she scurried in behind the intruder. "I tried to stop him." 

"It's okay, Ny. I've got it." Christine fixed him with an icy glare. "What are you doing here? I don't recall sending you an invitation." 

"You look lovely, Christine." 

"It's the dress, and when did we get to be on a first name basis? I must have missed that memo." 

"Your dress is lovely as well." 

"It's a wedding dress, Captain. That's your first clue." 

"Yes, Saavik informed me of your impending nuptials." 

"To which you were not invited. That's your second clue." 

"Yet, I am here." 

"To give away the bride perhaps?" she asked with a bitter laugh. "You did that a long time ago, Spock. Go home." 

"You love me." 

"No longer relevant." 

"Do you love him?"

"Not your concern." 

"What if I love you?"

"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn." 

Uhura let out a raucous laugh and Christine, despite her best effort to keep a straight face, dissolved into laughter as well. Spock regarded the pair of women with a sharply raised eyebrow and a look of puzzled indignation. For a brief moment she considered explaining the reference, but she had more important things on her mind and was not feeling particularly disposed to "read him in" to the proceedings. 

The opening strains of Pachelbel's Canon in D filtered in from the next room. Uhura retrieved the bouquet from the table and handed it to Christine. 

"The wedding's starting, which is your third and final clue, Captain Spock. Sorry but no prize for you, thanks for playing. I can ring for Security to show you out if that’s going to be necessary?" 

She saw a flash of something in his eyes, anger, or perhaps disappointment? Or maybe it was just gas? All that inscrutable Vulcan crap, it was really kind of hard to tell. He turned away and strode out the door, the sharp cadence of his boots striking crisply onto the marble hallway, growing softer until she could no longer hear it. 

"Well that was unexpected. How do I look, Ny?" she asked, giving her lipstick a final touch-up. 

"You're a beautiful bride, Chris." 

"Well, let's get this show on the road." >


	2. Chapter 2

Spock watched the trio of moons rising in the distance, their iridescent light intermingling with the last vestiges of light from Gaia III's red sun as it hung low over the horizon. The soothing, rhythmic sound of the tide was at odds with the unnatural cacophony of loud music, and the even louder chattering and laughter that inevitably manifested itself in any human social gathering.

He was uncertain how long he'd been perched on the small outcropping of rocks watching the sunset. His repeated attempts at meditation had proved futile, a single word sentry, like a schoolyard bully, blocking the path to the peace and clarity that his tangled mind so desperately desired. 

Nirak—the Vulcan word loosely translated to fool; he was a fool. What had been the logic in coming here? Had he honestly believed that his eleventh hour declaration would erase the past, could somehow make her turn from the new life she was creating for herself, turn back to him? But of course, he had believed it: believed that he could turn her with that single word—love. 

He did love her. There was no logic in trying to suppress the thought, no point in trying to sanitize it, to diffuse it with terms a Vulcan might find more palatable. It was why he'd come to her in the burning, why he'd held Valeris at arms length despite her persistent attempts to push the relationship to, in her words, "its logical conclusion." 

It was beyond ironic. For two decades she'd been his for the taking, and he'd rejected her out of hand. He had, as she'd said, given her away. And now that it was too late, he truly understood what he had lost. The Tenets of Surak held that there were always possibilities, but Christine Chapel was no longer one of his possibilities. He'd played his hand foolishly and lost. 

_Kaadith._ There was no wisdom in self-recrimination for past events that could not be altered. The Tenets also counseled that it was logical to take from past experience that which was learned from the experience, and leave that which was not beneficial behind. It was a philosophy much more easily spoken than practiced. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------- Christine grabbed a bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes from the bar and maneuvered her way through the crowd on the small dance floor, fending off a number of dance invitations and stopping briefly to acknowledge congratulations with the sappy grin she'd been wearing for the last two hours. She finally spotted McCoy on the terrace gazing out onto the moonlit beach below them. 

"Champagne?" she asked, setting the glasses along the railing and handing him the bottle. 

"The good stuff- I'm impressed," he said, examining the label with an approving grin as he removed the gold foil wrapping from the cork. 

Christine followed Len's gaze out to the beach then sighed. "I didn't invite him. He just showed up." 

"Showed up?" 

"Yeah, it turns out that Vulcans aren't that well versed on wedding etiquette." 

"You can say that again." Len tapped his glass against hers with a hearty laugh. "The last Vulcan wedding I went to ended up in mortal combat. So…if you didn't invite him why is he here?" 

"Saavik told him about the wedding—and believe me, she and I will be having some words about that little breach when I get back to command." 

"So he just showed up…what, for a free meal?" 

"Oh that's the damn cherry on the hot fudge sundae. He came swooping in to stop the wedding, like we were in some cheesy romance holovid." 

"You're…joking?" McCoy sputtered, choking on the wine. "He didn't?" 

"Oh, he did, and it just keeps getting better. He 'loves' me, although now that I think about it he actually said, 'what if I love you?' like he was taking a damned survey. What in the hell is that even supposed to mean?" 

"He's had a rough time, Chris…Jim…" McCoy's face softened, then he turned his gaze out to the sea. 

"We all have," she answered, feeling her throat tighten at the pain in his voice. She rested her hand lightly on his arm. 

He covered it with his own. But it's been worse for him, Chris. "Losing Jim like that, and then…his mother." 

"I know, Len. I probably shouldn't' have been such a bitch, but I was kind of in the middle of something." 

"I know, darlin'. Do you want me to go talk to him?" 

It was a tempting offer, to just return to the party and let Len do the dirty work. She refilled her glass and downed it in three quick gulps. "No." She sighed as she removed the scandalously expensive shoes and handed them to him for safekeeping. "I'll do it. Don't let them cut the cake until I get back." 

He responded with a nod and gentle hug. "I always knew you'd be a beautiful bride, Christine." 


	3. Chapter 3

Christine dug her toes down into the sweet comfort of the still warm sand. It felt like heaven to her swollen feet. The pricey handmade Italian shoes were beautiful, but not particularly comfortable. "Did you at least have the good manners to bring a gift?"

"I did not," he responded, shifting his position on the rocks. "The subtext of the sentiment behind such a gesture seemed counterintuitive to the intent of my visit." 

"Good to know it was a purely logical move. I thought you were just being cheap. I guess I should be thankful you didn't bring a lirpa." 

"I offered to marry you." 

"Yeah, right, how could I ever forget? It was such a magical moment…like a dream come true." 

"Then why did you choose another?" he asked, an uncharacteristic undertone of anger in his voice. 

"Seriously, Spock? Twenty years with Leonard McCoy and you still can't recognize sarcasm? 'I would not be averse to making this a permanent arrangement if you wish it, Doctor Chapel?' That was the absolute worst proposal of all freaking time." 

"I was grateful—"

"Then you should have written a god damned thank you note-and FYI, when you've been having nonstop sex with someone for four days you might want to consider using their first name-jumping Zephram Cochrane on a popsicle stick. What were you thinking showing up here like that?" 

He picked up a small flat stone and appeared to study it thoughtfully, as though it was a chess piece and he was plotting out a complicated move. He must not have cared for the endgame, a few moments later he tossed the rock into the dark water of the swiftly encroaching tide. 

"I am uncertain of the logic in making that choice. I hope there was no negative impact to your…proceedings?" 

"No, my 'proceedings' proceeded as planned. And…'What if I love you?' What in the hell was that about? You're not—it hasn't been seven years?" 

"It is not the pon farr…it…" He lay back on the rocks staring silently at the stars. 

"It what?" she asked, a bit more harshly than she intended. The air was cooling swiftly as the sun slipped into the horizon and she wished she'd brought some sort of wrap. 

He remained silent and she was debating whether to ask the question again or simply retreat to warmer environs and have a piece of cake but he sat up and looked down at her. 

"It no longer matters." 

"So, you're going to what…stay up there all night?" 

"Perhaps." 

"Look, Spock, I know you've been through… a lot these past months, but trying to convince yourself that you're in love with me isn't going to bring Jim…or your mother back." 

"Jim and my mother have nothing to do with this." 

"Maybe not, but I think you should come down now," she said trying to override the "suck it up and just do it" tone she'd cultivated at Ops in favor of the softer more empathetic "Nurse Chapel" tone she'd learned to use with patients. "It's getting too cold out here with the sun down and in another half hour this whole part of the beach will be underwater. Come on…Len's inside, he can take you back to wherever you're staying tonight. You can get a good night's sleep. Maybe in the morning you could talk to him about what's been going on. He understands what you're going through… he can help." 

"The last time I took your advice, Christine, it nearly started a war with the Klingons." 

"You're kidding? Valeris? Seriously? You're putting Valeris on me? No freaking way, buddy. I told you to find yourself 'a nice Vulcan girl.' I did not tell you to find a traitorous psychopathic bitch bent on starting an intergalactic holocaust. Maybe you should have focused more on the 'nice' part and less on 'girl' part? She was young enough to be your daughter, for heaven's sake." 

"You were jealous?" He jumped down from the rocks, briefly losing his footing as he landed on the beach beside her.

"Don't flatter yourself. I don't give a rat's ass who you sleep with as long as it's not me." 

"Rat's ass?" 

"It's a figure of speech, the point is you are free to do as you please." 

"I did not sleep with her. She wished it, but I...I did not. Did you sleep with Admiral Cartwright?" 

"What the-? No, I did not sleep with Admiral Cartwright, not that it's any of your damn business. Why would you think something like that?" 

"There were…rumors." 

"Oh, rumors—right, like the rumors about you and Jim?" 

"Rumors about Jim…and me?" he asked, with a puzzled hoisting of the eyebrow. 

"Some people thought that the two of you were making the beast with two backs." 

"The beast—"

"Sex, Spock, sex. Some people thought the two of you were having sex. Why don't you take all that money you saved not buying me a wedding present and buy yourself a Standard dictionary?" 

"My command of Standard is more than adequate. It is your use of Standard that appears to be questionable. How could you think that Jim...and I-"

"That's my point, Spock. Rumors rarely bear any relationship to the truth. Do you really think they would have promoted me to captain if I'd been consorting with a traitor like Cartwright? I can't believe we're having this conversation." 

"It is not as you have said. I did not come here because of…" He bit his lips together, and Christine had to fight the urge to reach out and touch him and somehow ease his pain. As Pavlov's dog had proven, old habits died hard. 

"I came to you after Khitomer, but you would not see me." 

"I thought you'd come to plead for Valeris." 

"I came to plead for us. But it doesn't matter now, does it?" 

"Captain Chapel!" A shout from above interrupted Christine before she could respond. One of the young security officers from her staff was leaning over the railing staring down at them. "Doctor McCoy asked me to give you a message." 

"Go ahead, Collins." 

"Yes, ma'am. He said to tell you to 'get rid of that blasted hobgoblin and come in and cut the cake.'"

"Thank you, Collins," she said, trying to stifle a laugh. "Please tell Doctor McCoy I'll be there shortly." 

She turned back to Spock. He was gazing out across the sea as if the secrets of the universe might lie beyond the moonlit horizon. "Duty calls," she said as she started up the wooden stairway to the terrace. He turned back toward her, his expression uncharacteristically open, and painfully vulnerable. "I regret imposing on your hospitality. I shall not trouble you again." 

"Somehow, I doubt that." She crossed her arms across her chest and let out a sigh that was equal parts of exhaustion and resignation. "You know, you're not an easy person to love, Spock." 

"So I have been told." 

"When was the last time you ate something?" 

"I am... not certain." 

"Come up and have something to eat." 

It is a very gracious offer, Christine, however I do not imagine that your new husband would approve of my presence." 

"Leonard never approves of your presence, but I don't recall that ever stopping you before." She turned and finished climbing the stairs to the deck.

"You married… Doctor McCoy?" 

"No," she said, turning back to face him. "I didn't marry McCoy. I didn't marry anybody." 

"You are not married?" 

"No." 

"But, the wedding—I don't understand?" 

"The Federation has been tracking one of the most extensive sex trafficking cartels in the quadrant. We received credible intel that the key cells were operating here, but there was no way to get the necessary number of operatives on the planet without arousing suspicion. 

"The Andorians captured a slaver named Ariste on Risa, and were able to get him to flip on people farther up the chain. The wedding of a Starfleet captain was the perfect ruse to get the necessary operatives in without arousing suspicion"

"So, the wedding was…just a smokescreen?" 

"Yes, it was. So, are you coming up or what?" 

He was up the stairs in a flash, and Chapel had to admit that he looked pretty damn happy and pretty damn sexy with his clingy black robe slightly askew and wind-blown hair. He leaned into her, brushing her cheek with a feather light kiss. 

"I am in love with you," he said. "If I come in I do not believe I will be satisfied with a piece of cake." 

"Duly noted, but I'm not making any promises." 

"Are you still here?" McCoy asked, poking his head out of the door. "Deveraux's on the comm, Chris. The Security team just got the last cell…the whole shebang. She says the key players are falling over like dominoes to cut deals. The Federation's already got leads on at least six more cells on rimworlds, lists of procurers, customers, officials they've paid off. Relief Services is sending in medical ships to take care of the victims, and a fleet of transports to start getting them back home." He shifted his gaze from Christine to Spock, then back to Christine. "Anything either of you want to tell me?" 

"No," they responded in unison. 

"Well at least you've both got your story straight." McCoy frowned. "Why is the husband always the last to know?" 

"Go back to the party, Len." 

"Fine, be like that. I'll find out eventually." 

"I'm sure you will, Len. Go cut the cake." 

"What will Doctor McCoy find out, Christine?" Spock asked when Len was safely out of earshot. He brushed back a stray lock of hair from her eyes, lingering for a moment, his fingers hot against her cheek. 

"I'm not sure," she said, leaning into him, loving the feel of his lean hard body against her. She gave him a light, though not particularly chaste, kiss on the cheek. "I had to book one of the Honeymoon beach houses for the next five days as part of my cover. I suspect we'll know something by the time we check out." 

"Does this beach house have a bed?" 

"It does, and it also has a couch, which is where you'll be sleeping tonight, so don't get ahead of yourself." 

"I shall strive to be flexible in my expectations." He initiated another kiss, though not on the cheek, and not by any means light. After a moment he pulled away from her. "So all of this was your operation?" 

"I don't have the toolbox for covert. I'm just the window dressing. Nogura gave me an unlimited credit account and told me to plan spectacular wedding and show up, and that's what I did." 

"And Saavik…was she aware of the nature of your work here?" 

"If she was, she'd be sitting in a holding cell right now. Gods of every freaking universe, she could have compromised the entire operation. When I get back to HQ, she and I will be having a little 'come to Jesus' meeting about boundaries and the fine art of minding one's own business. What in the hell was she thinking, Spock?" 

"I believe her thought processes are quite obvious. She has often expressed the opinion that I was a fool for not pursuing you. As I am most pleased by the outcome, I find myself inclined to overlook her lapse in discipline in this instance." 

"'Pleased with the outcome ? You're really sweeping me off my feet here." 

"I believe I said 'most pleased.'"

"So you did. I stand corrected. I was jealous of Valeris." 

"I never wanted Valeris, Christine. I only wanted you. I am sorry that I was not able to express that to you in a more human context. I will try to do better in the future." 

"Come on, you big lug." She took his hand and led him down the stairway. A cool evening breeze came up from the ocean and she wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the chill. Spock slid his arms around her pulling her close, rubbing his hand over her back to warm her. It was such a simple gesture, yet it touched her deeply. It felt…right. 

"You are a most beautiful, bride, Christine," he said softly. 

"It's the dress." 

"No, I do not believe it is the dress." 

"You're still sleeping on the couch tonight." 

"And after tonight?" 

"We'll see. There are always possibilities." 

"That is acceptable." He leaned down and captured her lips in a long slow kiss, and then they walked up the path together.


End file.
